


The Death of an Empire

by SaveErenCorps



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Blood and Injury, Character Death, Minor Holy Roman Empire/North Italy, Sad, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:01:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23563480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaveErenCorps/pseuds/SaveErenCorps
Kudos: 5





	The Death of an Empire

The battle had already begun. The smell of gunpowder and blood plagued the air in those lands. The cannons covered the screams of terror of the Austrians who were defeated. France, on the other hand, could hear them very well, every time he stabbed one of theme. But now he was used to it. First the revolution, then the regime of terror and finally Bonaparte. This new boss of his was more adventurous militarily speaking, but France didn't mind that much. It reminded him a lot of the Middle Ages, but now he was the supreme force of all Europe. Nobody could stop him, not even a dandy with a little boy.

He could feel the adrenaline rushing through his veins when he saw someone out of the battle on horseback out of the corner of his eye. He could recognize that straw-like hair everywhere: it was the Holy Roman Empire.

‘What's that kid doing? Are you missing out on all the fun?’ He ran to a cavalry soldier and took his horse. He had to reach it. It didn't take him long to find him and the chase began. The Holy Roman Empire was certainly not heading towards the camp, but was heading towards an unidentified place among the grasslands. They were now far from the battlefield and France spurred the horse to the maximum, but could not reach it in any way. There was only one thing to do in those situations.

He took the shotgun he had put behind his back. He knew he had a shot, but he had to try. He stopped the horse and moved into position. He was straight in front of him, he couldn't be wrong.

The sound of the shot made his ears whistle, but he could hear the painful neigh of his opponent's horse. He had caught it in the hind leg. The horse fell heavily on that boy and France had nothing else to do but reach it. He pushed the horse towards him. France saw that the Holy Roman Empire had risen and was trying to escape, but he also knew very well that he could not sow it. In fact, France reached him in a flash. He blocked the road with the horse and the rifle pointed. It was empty, but he could bluff.

“Look who was trying to escape”. The boy did not reply, but tried to keep his face as hard as possible. His icy eyes wanted to penetrate him, but it had no effect on him. “What do we want to do, Empire?”.

To France he seemed to see them, those small wheels that turned in the head of that boy, who, like a mouse on the corner, was looking for an escape. He actually felt sorry for him and therefore decided to give him a chance.

“Let me put it in this way”. He spoke again, catching the boy's attention. “We fight”. He put down his rifle and got off his horse and took the sword. “Just you and me, on equal terms”. He bowed keeping his sword pointed at the boy. “What do you say, Emperor?”. He had bowed so much that Holy Roman Empire could look at him from above and his eyes were examining the situation.

“Okay”. France smiled. It would have been a lot of fun.

They put themselves in position; one back to the other. They had to count three steps each, before starting the fight.

Un...

Deux...

Trois...

Both of them drew the sword at the same time and turned to face each other. They stood in a stalemate for a while. There was no wind and even the dying horse's neighing had stopped. Just the two of them. Europe's two greatest powers to fight for supremacy.

France made the first move. He attacked frontally, but the boy parried him. The two began to push with the blades. France could see that the Holy Roman Empire was making an effort to maintain its position. Then with an extra effort he went further away from France. Was the blond already panting from that little effort?

France returned to the attack and the Holy Roman Empire tried to parry all the blows. The clashing of weapons resounded in the air, causing it to recede even more. By now France had victory in hand. He just had to hurt him to win, nothing special.

He waited for the right moment, an opening, and when he found it, he struck the blow. A blow that started from the pelvis and diagonally up to the shoulder. France, from how close he was, could see that boy's pupils tighten, then he fell on his knees and hands. France had won. He had asserted his power over all of Europe with that victory. France was from behind and, putting the sword back in its scabbard, turned to the boy who had not yet risen.

“Great fight, I had fun fighting with you again. It hadn't happened for a long time, but it was still a good meeting, isn't it true Emperor?”. The boy didn't answer, he could only hear him panting slightly. “Emperor? Do you know that it’s rude not to answer a question?”.

He said nothing again, then he fell to the side. France rushed to him. His face was pale and his closed eyes were circled in black. “Hey boy, what's going on?”. He turned it over so that it was on his back and saw what was wrong. Streams of blood were pouring from the chest of that little creature beneath him. His black clothes were soaked with blood and a trickle of blood came out of his mouth.

“Nonononononon”. This was not supposed to happen. Such a blow should not have hurt such a normal nation. Unless… “I have to get you out of here”.

He had to stop all that bloodshed. He tore off a part of his shirt and started dabbing the wound. The cloth immediately becomes red.

“Hey, Empire”. He shook it slightly. Her eyes opened slightly. He was still conscious, a very good thing. “Keep this on the wound. It will slow down the exit”. He took his hand and made him grab the piece of cloth.

“F ... France ...”. France approached him. His eyes were no longer as bright blue as when he was a great power, but they were dull blue. Why he had been so blind and hadn't noticed before that boy was slowly fading away? “P-Prussia...”.

“Yes! Yes, now I'll take you to your brother. Don't worry, everything will be okay”. He started calling the horse. He didn’t know where he had gone, but he would surely return.

Meanwhile, he lifted him up and leaned on his arm, to then have a better grip on him. Blood had soiled his jacket, his shirt and his white pants. By now it was all a sea of warm blood. He continued to press the cloth over the wound, but it did not heal as quickly as it should have.

He was an idiot. He had to understand that the poor boy had fled the battle just to not die like any other person. He should have remembered that every time he saw him, he was pale and looked tired. He should have to stop. He should...

The horse arrived. France stood up with the boy in his arms. He was very light, like a feather, and he could feel the prominent bones under his clothes. But the blondie didn't veil to leave. He was trying to push him away with his arms. France tried to stop him, but he was too stubborn.

“N.. No... the.. the pendant... I have to...”. It seemed like looking for something with his eyes and moving his hands towards the ground.

France also looked down and saw something glistening. He picked it up. It was a small gold-plated pendant with a small portrait of a smiling Italy. France's heart broke. How could he have told his little cousin what he had done to his beloved. After looking at it for a while, he handed it over to the Holy Roman Empire.

“Take it...”.

His dull eyes looked at him and then covered the small pendant. Now it was stained with blood, with his blood, but he smiled equally when he saw that little figure smiling at him. France got on his horse and placed it in front of him, so as not to drop it.

“Sorry”. France asked. “Where's your brother?”.

“North-east...”. The boy said in a low voice.

France thanked and then spurred the horse on to their camp. France knew that Prussia was in the camp of Holy Roman Empire. It was known to all Europe that Prussia in this last period was very close to his brother and followed him, not respecting the orders of his boss.

France galloped as fast as possible. The boy needed immediate medications and he had to hurry. France could hear small moans stifled by Empire's pale lips. The heart of France tightened every time he felt one. What had he done?

Arriving at the camp he realized that there was no one to stop him from entering inside. All the soldiers were still engaged in the battle. He got off his horse.

“Prussia!”. He started shouting his friend's name as he walked around the field looking for him. “Prussia!”.

He had to hurry. Empire had become even paler and seemed to lose consciousness more and more. In the end, between the shouts and the running around the field, he found the tent of Prussia. He had just gone out, probably because he had heard his friend's voice.

“France, what are you doing her-”. He stopped. His eyes looked even redder due to the pupil's shrinking to see that scene. He immediately ran to France. “Bruder!”. Empire opened his eyes slightly and watched his brother approach him.

“Prussia...”. He called out to him in a whisper. Prussia took him from the arms of France and held him close. “I'm here, Bruder, I'm here. Mein Gott, what happened to you?”. Prussia looked at him and saw the huge wound on his chest, but he also saw another thing: the blood on France’s clothes. The compassionate Prussian eyes lit with pure hatred.

“You!”.

France was only now aware of the terrible mistake he had made. “P-Prussia, I can exp-”.

“Halt den Mund!”. He shouted and France took a step back. “I don't give a shit about your apologies! Have you seen what you've done? Have you seen how you reduced him?”. He looked again at his brother, who in the meantime had closed his eyes. He seemed unconscious.

“Mon ami -”.

“Don't call me that way anymore!”. He aimed a gun at his face. France felt his heart skip a beat. Not so much for the gun, but as much for hurting his friend. “Now”. He continued in a cold tone. “I will enter the tent and stay in the tent for 15 minutes. When I get back out, I expect you're gone. If you are still here, I will not hesitate to blow your brains out”. He entered the tent and everything returned to silence.

France felt all the adrenaline of those last moments finish in a second. He fell to his knees with a dull sound. He looked at his hands. It was full of a little boy's blood, like his clothes. But he didn't feel dirty from the blood. He was dirty for what he had done.

He got up and, riding on horseback, returned to his camp. Those dull eyes haunted him throughout the journey and even in dreams they did not leave him. Was this really what he wanted? What would you have thought of this? What had he done?

A few days later the Austrian army was defeated and, France discovered, both Prussia and the Holy Roman Empire had disappeared in some villa in the north.

He went home. He had asked to have a small cottage on the Seine, to enjoy some peace from time to time. Everything had remained the same. The sun illuminated his garden of blooming lilies, they were white as snow. He entered the house.

“Welcome back ~”. Italy welcomed him with a big smile. After the end of the war, he had custody over Italy. When he had gone to get it, he had spoken to Austria. He had seemed less angry to him than Prussia was, but he certainly did not esteem him. 'I didn't say anything to Italy. I believe you have to take responsibility for your actions. ' He had said enough to him.

“I'm glad you came back from the war safe and sound. Do you want me to make you a tea?”.

France simply nodded, then walked briskly into the living room. He had to tell him. He knew it would hurt him, but he had to. At least he had to do a good deed, even though he was pretty sure he wouldn't redeem him.

He slumped on the white sofa. The light illuminated the entire empire-style living room creating a warm, familiar atmosphere, but it could not reach the heart of France. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw those glazed, ice-colored eyes watching him with pain.

“Big Brother!”. Italy called him back. He looked up. Italy was holding a silver tray with a teapot and a cup. “The tea is ready!”.

“Perfect”. France watched him carry the tray on the coffee table. “Italy”. His amber eyes looked at him. They were so big and full of life, France didn't want to ruin them. “Take a cup for yourself too. You will surely have worked all day and you will be tired. In addition, I have to tell you an important thing”. Italy nodded and ran to the kitchen to get another cup of the serving. When he came back, he sat down on the sofa and started serving tea.

The smell of tea filled the room with truly intoxicating fragrances. He had to admit that he hadn't had tea for a long time and he really needed a hot substance to untie the knot in his throat. When Italy finished serving both, he looked France in the face again.

“So, Big Brother, what did you want to tell me? Is it something about Napoleon's wife? You know how much I love that woman; she is so pretty and -”.

“Holy Roman Empire is gone”. He spat with a low look. He didn't want to see his little smile disappear.

The air froze in an instant. Italia's eyes did not seem to have caught the sudden message so well.

“What?”. He asked with hesitation.

“Holy Roman Empire is dead. And if it is not now it will be in a few days”.

The breaking of Italy's cup of tea broke the silence that had formed. France woke up and looked up. Italy's pupils had become tiny giving a good view of the amber iris with lost look, as well as his expression and probably all of himself. He had lost his beloved and France knew very well how Italy was feeling. All that pain for just a few words.

He immediately took his little hand to make him understand that he knew what he was going through. France realized that from the usual warm hands, they had now become cold and seemed to tremble slightly. “Italy, I’m so s-”.

“Who?”. He asked only. France looked at him. Italy's amber eyes were now a river of tears, but still remained shiny in some way. He bit his lip, he had to tell him the truth.

“It was me”. It was the first time that he had admitted it not only to someone else, but also to himself. Yes, he had been the cause of the death of a young boy who had a family and had a lover. “I know what you think, but believe me, I didn't want to, I-”.

“I know. I know you didn't want to kill him and I forgive you”. He replied. His expression was indecipherable. He did not perceive any sensation, but tears continued to fall from his warm eyes. Then Italy got up. “Now excuse me, but I would like to go for a walk alone, if possible. Then when I come back, I clean everything”. France nodded and watched the little creature out of that house with a funeral step.

Now France was completely alone in those four walls that isolated him from the world. Everything fell on him like a boulder. He felt as if his heart was tightening in his chest, his breath was panting and his eyes pinched. It was all his fault for what had happened and what would have happened. He had lost his friend and would no longer have the courage to look Italy in the face.

“What have I done?”. He wondered with his hands in his hair. He had just changed history.


End file.
